


Twisted Dichotomy, Synthesized Society

by phantasticphun



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Pastel Dan Howell, Pastel Dan and Punk Phil, Punk Phil Lester, Swearing, Trope Subversion/Inversion, bartender phil lester, bookstore employee dan howell, neither of them die!, non-youtube au, star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantasticphun/pseuds/phantasticphun
Summary: Dan is Pastel. Phil is Punk. They live in a world where the Punks and Pastels despise each other. Each city, including London, has a Pastel Side and a Punk Side. They're star-crossed lovers.You know how this goes.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17
Collections: Phandom Fic Fests Holiday Exchange 2019





	Twisted Dichotomy, Synthesized Society

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilactreesinwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilactreesinwinter/gifts).



Dan placed a flower crown on his head. While looking in the mirror, he adjusted it, making sure it wasn’t at all lopsided, and smiled.

His ensemble today was perfect. He wore a soft light pink jumper, white jeans, and the pink flower crown he was just playing with sat on his chocolate-colored curls. His shoes were a pair of pink and white Vans and his nails were painted a sparkly light pink, completing the look.

Not everyone took the time to choose such thought-out outfits, although a clean look was the standard for Pastels. To look messy and unkempt was to be closer to Punk, and the Punk lifestyle was more than looked down upon. They were hated, absolutely despised. 

Pastels were sweet and kind. They followed manners and helped anyone in need (as long as they were Pastel, too). Dan was taught from a young age that Punks were exactly the opposite. Punks broke rules. Punks were rude. Punks swore. Punks were mean. Most of all, though, Punks were to be feared. They were always up to no good and could easily corrupt an unwary Pastel.

Dan didn’t want to be corrupted, so he always did what he was told. He was alone now, though, and away from the parents and teachers that told him right from wrong. He had been out of university for a few years, was living on his own in a cute-- and very aesthetically pleasing, he might add-- flat, and worked in a bookshop called Happily Ever After Books. It was a job that Dan enjoyed, being constantly surrounded by the words that he adored so much, and it paid well, too. He had a few friends but definitely spent the most time with another Pastel man his age that also worked at Happily Ever After, named Rowan. Dan was pretty sure that they were both on the schedule today. They liked to pick shifts together so that they could have conversations during slow hours.

Dan had a bowl of sugary cereal for breakfast while scrolling through his Instagram feed and then it was off to work. He grabbed his things, locked up, and started his couple-block trek.

~~~

Phil pressed “snooze” on his phone alarm clock about seven times before actually getting out of bed. It’s not like he had any reason in particular to get out of bed early or something. His shift started at seven PM for crying out loud, what was the purpose of getting up at nine?

He grabbed his glasses off of the bedside table and flung his covers off. It was warm mid-morning and he had no reason to be cold, but a chill still ran over his chest. He made his way over to his wardrobe and grabbed some ripped black jeans and a graphic tee, as well as a change of underwear, and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower. He was thankful that he and his roommate, Belinda, had quite different schedules so they really never had to worry much about running into each other with tasks like this. 

Phil and Belinda were both Punk. And very much gay. People would often accuse them of being boyfriend and girlfriend, but they’d always assure the person asking that they were absolutely not into each other and just friends and roommates. 

Phil yawned as he turned on the water. Last night had been oddly busy for a Thursday at Devil’s Advocate. He worked as a bartender, mixing drinks, there-- it was a Punk bar and disco. Last night had been strangely rowdy, but he supposed that was due mostly to the large groups of uni students. Uni students were always rowdy.

Well, maybe not always. He never thought of himself as too rowdy, even when he was in uni. And, of course, he certainly couldn’t speak for Pastels. He couldn’t imagine they were as angelic as they made themselves out to be, but maybe they were? Perhaps they weren’t rowdy at all? Or, maybe, the softness was just all a facade and they were just as loud as the Punks?

Although, probably not, Phil thought. He couldn’t imagine that any Pastel was really that rowdy.

~~~

It was a pleasantly warm day and Dan was very happy as he walked to Happily Ever After Books. He wasn’t even happy for a particular reason, and unprompted happiness was, honestly, a rarity for Dan. It felt good to feel good, though, and the streets of the Pastel Side looked particularly gorgeous today. Pretty flowers were blooming, the scents of pastries and sugar floated through the air, the sky was a nice bright blue, and the pastel-painted buildings all looked inviting and beautiful.

Dan was certain that, for some reason, that day was special. Maybe not, maybe the happiness _was_ truly unprompted, but he wasn’t so sure. All that he was sure about was the sunshine in his heart and the pleasant melody playing in his head.

He chuckled at himself for thinking such a phrase. It wasn’t like Dan was dark and brooding or something-- Pastels were never dark or brooding-- but he was certainly less sing-songy than most Pastels. He got scolded several times when he was younger for not being happy and grateful enough. It was integral to Pastel culture to be thankful, grateful, and pleasant whenever possible.

Dan was kind of a strange Pastel in that regard. Sure, he could value positivity, but that couldn’t help his thoughts from spiraling sometimes.

Sometimes, even, Dan thought about _death._

Death was bad. Death was unpleasant. Dan hated himself for thinking about the inevitability of it sometimes. Pastels were never supposed to think about bad or unpleasant things. Thinking about bad or unpleasant things caused bad and unpleasant actions, and such actions caused disruption in Pastel society.

That’s why Punks were hated so much. Dan was told that they often thought about and did bad and unpleasant things. Dan wasn’t so sure, though. How could he lump an entire group of people together? How could each person in an entire half of the population, all of Punk society, possibly be the same?

Maybe the reason he was so happy as he was walking to work that day was because he wasn’t thinking of anything, any thought at all, that ever caused turbulence inside of him. He was just observing sweet and wonderful things, and as he walked, maybe he more deeply understood the core of Pastel Philosophy.

Maybe he didn’t, though. Maybe philosophies were just difficult and society was just a little bit twisted. Maybe the air just smelled nice and the flowers were just pretty.

~~~

It was a rather slow day at Happily Ever After and Dan and Rowan were restocking shelves together in almost-silence. The aroma of pastries and the sight of beautiful flowers were gone from Dan’s head, and he was stuck thinking again. In fact, his thoughts were tip-toeing into bad and unpleasant thoughts. Some soft instrumental music was playing in the background, but unlike most of the time when they were alone together, they weren’t talking at all.

Dan was about to change that.

He stepped closer to Rowan, but Rowan shuffled backwards. 

Before Dan got the chance, Rowan spoke. “Dan,” he said, “You have that look in your eyes when you’re about to do something. It’s like a lightning bolt has zapped you and it’s left you a little wild in the brain.”

“I want to do something, I think.”

Rowan cocked a red-orange eyebrow.

“You ever think about Punks?” Dan asked.

His eyebrows scrunched together. “Oh no.”

Dan sighed. “Like, you know, you ever wonder what they think about? Or, like, how Punk society really is? Like, the Pastels all have this notion of it, but do you think it’s really true?”

Rowan pushed in three books on a shelf, finishing up the stack in his hands. “Dan, you know we’re really not supposed to think about that. We both know that they don’t think or act like us. Punk society separated from us years and years ago, they _rebelled_ , and that’s how this whole division started.”

“I know, I know,” Dan murmured. “But the only way I can disprove the Pastel idea of Punks is if, well--” He stopped mid-way through his sentence, his brain hardly catching up with his talking, to say, “They can’t all be evil thugs or something, can they?”

“Dan,” Rowan emphatically said, “They are. That’s what we’ve been told all our lives. We’ve heard stories. We’ve seen pictures of them. We know--” 

“I’m going to go to the Punk Side and meet some of them.” 

Rowan looked like he was going to pass out.

Dan continued, “I’ll see if everything we’ve been told is lies or not. Maybe all of them are just people like us.”

Rowan huffed and sped out of between the shelves they were stacking. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this right now!” He bolted between shelves and Dan followed, only to zoom behind the counter. “Are you even hearing yourself? Punks are dangerous! They’ll see that you’re Pastel and you’ll get killed!”

Dan shrugged. “They won’t know. I’ll dress just like them.”

Rowan couldn’t believe his ears. “And where on Earth are you going to get clothes like theirs?”

Again, another shrug. “I’ve got a pair of black jeans that I normally wear with light-colored jumpers. And I have a gray tee-shirt. My diamond studs might work earring-wise.”

Rowan’s voice rose louder and higher. “You’re about to wear diamond earrings on the Punk Side? They’ll tackle you and rip them out of your ears with no remorse! Then they’ll sell them on the black market!”

Dan rolled his eyes and snorted. “If you’re so concerned, I’ll wear something else. Either way, even though my closet is mostly light colors, I’ll just put on the few things I have that no Pastel would ever dare wear together. Perhaps I’ll straighten my hair. Punks do that, yeah? And I might have some pink or purple temporary dye. And I could probably find some accessories at a shop quickly.”

Rowan shook his head. “Dan, you’re still out of your mind.”

“This is something I need to do.” Dan sighed. “I feel obligated. If no Pastel has done this before, I’ll be the first.”

“No, no. Pastels have tried it before. The Punks just arrest them. Or kill them. Or something. I’m sure.”

Dan shuffled closer. “Fear does very little good for anyone. I can’t afford to be afraid, now. I have to see what is really going on. I need to know the truth.”

Rowan swallowed hard. “Stay at the register, please,” he said, walking out from behind the desk. “I just… I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Dan frowned as Rowan bolted to the stockroom. He had hoped that Rowan would be supportive; he always seemed to like learning new things about people. Evidently not Punks, though.

No matter what Rowan’s feelings were, Dan had to know for himself and for all of Pastel kind.

While the hours were slow, he formulated a plan. He’d do it tonight. He’d go to the Punk Side tonight after work. 

~~~

After Dan finished up his workday, he went to an accessory shop and bought some fake piercings, temporary tattoos, and a chain for his jeans. He walked back to his apartment and laid everything out on his bed, only to realize that he had no idea how to get dressed and actually get to the Punk Side without getting caught someplace he absolutely was not supposed to be, as either Pastel or fake-Punk. He sighed and pulled out his cell phone. Hopefully, the person he was about to call thought more about Dan’s idea and changed at least a little bit from his initial reaction.

“Rowan?”

“Dan! Did you decide not to go? Did you realize how bad of a plan this is?”

Dan chuckled, slightly uncomfortable. “No, well, actually, quite the opposite. I need your help.”

“Need your help?! Dan! _Dan!_ How would I even?” Rowan was incredulous. “Dan, _what?!_ ”

“I need you to drive me. You know I don’t have a car.”

Rowan squeaked out, “Dan! I’m not driving you to the Punk Side!”

He sighed. “Look, I have no idea how I’ll get there without you. There aren’t any bus or underground lines that go to the Punk Side of the city. If I walk all the way there Pastel, when I get to the Punk side, who knows what’ll happen. But, if I get dressed here as Punk, then when I walk out of my flat, I’ll probably get arrested or something.”

There was a pause as Rowan thought about the best option. He wanted Dan to be safe. He really did. But the whole plan wasn’t safe at all. Perhaps if he drove him, though, Dan’s plan would be _slightly_ less dangerous. 

“Fine.” Rowan nodded, even though Dan couldn’t see him. “I’ll do it. Just give me, like, ten, fifteen minutes to get to your place.”

Dan knew he could count on Rowan. “Thank you so much. See you then.”

“See you soon,” Rowan said and pressed his screen to hang up the phone. 

~~~

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this. I can’t believe _I’m_ doing this.”

“Well, you are driving me, aren’t you? You must not be _completely_ against this idea if you’re driving me there.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I could stop driving you and make you get out right now.”

That made Dan shut his mouth. He sat in the backseat of Rowan’s car, very thankful that he convinced him to drive him. Dan slipped his shoulder out from behind the seat belt to change his shirt; he’d have to change on the way. He pulled his pink jumper off over his head and reached into his bag for his gray tee-shirt.

Rowan’s eyes flicked up from the road to look in the rear-view mirror. “Hey!” He yelped, “Put a shirt on! We’re friends but we’re not that close!”

Dan finished putting the shirt on and slipped his arm back under the seat belt. He smirked. “What? Am I distracting you? Can’t drive with too much uncovered skin in your car?”

Rowan chuckled. “I can still throw you out, you know. We’re still on the Pastel Side.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Dan said through snickers. “Seriously, though, thanks for doing this.”

~~~

Phil liked being just a little early for his work shifts. He went in the back entrance of Devil’s Advocate, signed in, and greeted his co-workers-- another bartender, two waitresses, a hostess, a security guard named Kevin, and a few other people with jobs Phil wasn’t exactly sure of.

He actually enjoyed his job. He got to meet a lot of people-- lots of good people, fun and interesting Punks that came in to have a good time. Of course, there were those who were rude or annoying or someone he’d have to call security on, but the good made up for the bad. He knew how to mix lots of drinks and it was always fun to show off his skills to those either at the bar during work or if he ever went to a party or something, although he wasn’t too much of the partying type. 

He swung open a door and came out from the back. He situated himself behind the bar, checking that there was enough of everything, then, after pacing around just a little bit, went back to the back and waited until 8 PM, when Devil’s Advocate actually opened up. 

~~~

Dan had put on his Punk ensemble in the back and Rowan was only freaking out a little bit while driving through the Punk Side of the city. 

“Tell me when to drop you off. I’m not sure where you want to go.” Rowan’s eyes darted around him. Punks were walking up and down the streets and Rowan was praying that no one could see him. 

Dan stared out the window in amazement. It was now evening, but the lack of sunlight was not the only reason everything looked so dark. The buildings were black and gray, bright red and blue. The Punks on the street were shouting and laughing, being much louder than what was socially acceptable on the Pastel Side. People were playing music, _loud, loud_ music with words Dan had been told to never, ever use. 

He was terrified.

He loved it.

“Here! Here! Drop me off right here, Rowan,” Dan shouted, an unhinged sort of glee in his voice. 

“You sure?” He asked. Rowan’s voice wavered in a way that Dan had never heard before. 

Dan confirmed, “Yeah, right here.”

Rowan pulled over to the side of the road, not totally parallel parking, but close enough to just drop Dan off. Dan collected the things he needed, leaving behind his Pastel clothes.

He exhaled another shaky breath and asked, “I’ll meet you here at eleven, Dan?”

Dan’s eyes drifted back out the window, absolutely enthralled with the whole other world outside. “Make that eleven-thirty?”

“You know it’s about an hour and a half drive here, you want me to leave the Pastel Side at ten? Like, what it’s seven now, I’ll get back around eight-thirty, and then leave to come back at ten? So that I’ll get here at eleven-thirty? Okay, okay, I suppose I can do that.”

Dan could tell Rowan was rambling just because he was nervous. “Hey,” Dan said, “Seriously. Don’t worry. I’m going to be fine. And I’ll call you if I’m not, okay? Things will be fine.”

“Things will be fine,” Rowan repeated.

“Yes, now,” Dan said, unbuckling his seat belt and putting a hand on the door handle, “See you at eleven-thirty. I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Bye, Dan,” Rowan said as Dan got out of the car. “Good luck!”

Dan slammed the door shut and stepped out into the Punk Side. He couldn’t believe it. 

He was actually there. Real, live Punks-- dressed in ripped black jeans or leather pants and dark shirts and spiked jackets, with bright, crazy-cut hair and piercings-- passed him on the sidewalk as Rowan drove away. The buildings were dark, but not so uninviting and scary. In fact, they were all quite the opposite. He could hear the shouting, the laughter from the restaurants. There was booming bass coming from somewhere. Neon lights shone in the darkening sky. Everything was loud and bright, like his every sense was turned on to a thousand. 

After a moment to take everything in, Dan straight-up ran down the sidewalk with a gigantic grin on his face. As he darted beside a group of Punks, one of them shouted out, “Eh, eh mate? What’s got you so excited?”

“This place is wonderful, isn’t it? Wonderful!” He giggled, twirling around to face them.

They all shared a look, toothy grins now on all of their faces. “Whatever you say,” the same Punk said. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

Dan waved goodbye to them as they continued on their separate ways.

~~~

Devil’s Advocate opened at eight. The beginning of each night open was always a little slow, people typically didn’t really start to show up until at least nine, but the few people that came in for a drink or for a slightly less-sweaty-and-grindy date stop more than the disco or club experience began to enter.

Phil mixed drinks, as he did every night he was working at Devil’s Advocate, and held small-talk conversations with any guests who wanted that sort of thing. 

A girl named Jolie, another bartender, tapped Phil on the shoulder and said, “I know you’ve only been here, like, two hours since you came in to open, but you want to take a little break before things get really crazy?”

Phil nodded. “Sure thing, Jolie. Thanks.”

“Sure,” she said, “Of course. I’ll take care of things when you’re gone.”

Phil nodded, thanked her again, and made his way to the back.

~~~

It had been close to an hour of Dan walking around, not going any place in particular, but rather him just taking in the sights around him. It was totally dark out, now, not a sliver of twilight left. The Punks really didn’t seem all that different from the Pastels at all. They were all just a little more… extreme. That’s all. And Dan supposed that he actually hadn’t heard of a real Punk talk politics, so he really didn’t know about how “evil” their ideas were. They didn’t seem evil, though. They just seemed to like to express themselves-- their whole, loud, extreme selves. Dan admired that.

Dan walked down another street when a building across the way caught his eye. There was a sign in front of the open door which read “Devil’s Advocate.” A man in a dark, skinny suit and boots stood in front. He wore sunglasses at night. How silly and peculiar. 

He decided that he wanted to investigate, so he crossed the road and strode towards it. He stood in front of the dark building and admired it. There was more booming bass and some flashing bright lights from within, framing the suited man in a sort of intriguing way.

“Can I help you?” The man in the suit asked.

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Dan responded. “What is this place?”

The man nodded. “Welcome to Devil’s Advocate. I’m Kevin, part of the security team. It’s a nightclub, complete with disco and bar that serves not only drinks but appetizers, too. It’s the hottest place for young adults on the Punk Side of London.” He then looked Dan up and down. “I assume you’re not from around here?”

“Um… no.” Dan shook his head. He was absolutely positive that Pastel clubs and Punk clubs would be very different and although he’d never even been clubbing on the much calmer Pastel Side, he wanted to go a little wild until Rowan was to pick him up. “I’m just visiting.”

“Right,” Kevin said, but he didn’t seem to actually believe Dan. Dan hoped he hadn’t blown his cover. Apparently, he didn’t. “So, do you want to go in or what?”

Dan’s face lit up. “Yes! Absolutely!”

Kevin chuckled and shook his head. “Alright, then. I’m going to have to see your ID, bud.”

The smile on Dan’s face dropped suddenly. 

_Of course,_ he’d have to show his ID; his ID that, under the “Side” category, had PASTEL written in all-capital letters.

~~~

Phil walked out into the night sky, taking his couple-minute break that Jolie allowed him to. He breathed a deep breath in and out, enjoying a calm before re-entering the loud chaos. Just as he was about to pull out his phone from his pocket, he heard the security bouncer, Kevin, speaking rather loudly to someone out front.

“Sorry, I uh… I better go I guess,” an unfamiliar voice said. 

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “Sorry, I can’t allow entry without proper ID.”

That voice intrigued him. He wanted to help that man for some reason. Phil came out of the alley and walked out front.

~~~

“I’m sorry, I just, I…” Dan stammered. “I guess I just must’ve forgotten it. Yeah.”

Kevin nodded. “Understandable. If you come back with it, I can take a look and we can get you in.”

Dan tried to smile, but it turned into an awkward simper. “I understand.”

Then, Dan felt a hand on the small of his back. He recoiled from the touch and turned around to see just who had done that. It was a serious breach of personal space.

He met eyes with a Punk that couldn’t have been much older than him. He had a long black fringe with blue tips that matched his lovely eyes. He was wearing ripped black jeans and a graphic tee, and had a few facial piercings. 

It was the prettiest Punk he’d seen that night. It was the prettiest Punk he’d seen _ever_. 

“Hey,” he said, “No worries, Kevin. He’s with me.”

“Oh?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah,” the pretty Punk responded. “He’s just visiting the city and wanted, you know, the Devil’s Advocate experience and all.”

Kevin nodded. “Of course, of course.” He then turned to Dan. “Sorry for the bother. I didn’t know that you knew Phil.”

Dan’s eyes darted between this so-called Phil and Kevin. “Yeah, it’s not a problem,” he said, trying to keep up with this odd interaction. Something like this had never happened to him before.

Kevin stepped away from the door and Phil half-pushed Dan inside. They were greeted by tables of friends and couples drinking and eating snacks, as well as a dance floor with bright, rainbow lights and booming music.

It was intense. It was almost _magical._

Dan turned his gaze from taking the scene all in to meet Phil’s eyes. 

“Welcome to Devil’s Advocate,” he said with a cool smirk. Dan was already fond of that smile.

Dan thought, especially at that moment, that the Pastel perception of Punks was the biggest lie in the universe. Going to the Punk Side, so far, had been the greatest and most exciting event of his whole life.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 can be read by itself right now, but Parts 2 and 3 will be released soon! This story has become something I didn't anticipate. It'll be much longer than I intended, but you'll get more to read, haha!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and are looking forward to the rest!
> 
> Special thanks to sudden-sky on Tumblr/ patchworklove on AO3 for being my beta and listening to me shout through dms. :)


End file.
